Old Man Hustle

39 Essex St. (212-253-7747)

When Mike Jarmuz, the owner of this tiny brick-walled wine bar and performance space, first moved to New York, he drove a cab, and one of his fares, surprised to see such a young guy at the wheel, remarked that taxi-driving was an “old man’s hustle.” The same might be said about owning a shop on the Lower East Side, where a legacy of independent art has segued into big profits, but Old Man Hustle celebrates raucous amateurism. The wine list is small but affordable, and hot dogs, topped with ethnic-inspired combinations like chopped onions and teriyaki sauce, are offered sporadically. There’s a stage in the rear, no bigger than a dunk tank, and the microphone is always on, goading visitors to perform. One recent evening, a savant with an electric guitar and perfect pitch fielded requests at a sing-along, while a tambourine circulated, followed by complimentary grappa. A young woman in a short skirt and an oversized sweater sang an inspired rendition of “Blue Velvet.” Then a Coney Island sideshow performer drove a nail into his nostril with a claw hammer. A first-timer found the scene reminiscent of Club Silencio, in David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive.” His friend, a psychoanalyst, diagnosed the room: “It’s the most random group of people I’ve ever seen.” ♦